Ryland began by praising the present state of the British empire. He

recalled past years to their memory; the miserable contentions which in the

time of our fathers arose almost to civil war, the abdication of the late

king, and the foundation of the republic. He described this republic;

shewed how it gave privilege to each individual in the state, to rise to

consequence, and even to temporary sovereignty. He compared the royal and

republican spirit; shewed how the one tended to enslave the minds of men;

while all the institutions of the other served to raise even the meanest

among us to something great and good. He shewed how England had become

powerful, and its inhabitants valiant and wise, by means of the freedom

they enjoyed. As he spoke, every heart swelled with pride, and every cheek

glowed with delight to remember, that each one there was English, and that

each supported and contributed to the happy state of things now

commemorated. Ryland's fervour increased--his eyes lighted up--his

voice assumed the tone of passion. There was one man, he continued, who

wished to alter all this, and bring us back to our days of impotence and

contention:--one man, who would dare arrogate the honour which was due to

all who claimed England as their birthplace, and set his name and style

above the name and style of his country. I saw at this juncture that

Raymond changed colour; his eyes were withdrawn from the orator, and cast

on the ground; the listeners turned from one to the other; but in the

meantime the speaker's voice filled their ears--the thunder of his

denunciations influenced their senses. The very boldness of his language

gave him weight; each knew that he spoke truth--a truth known, but not

acknowledged. He tore from reality the mask with which she had been

The Last Man